


Bloodlust

by Anonymous



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Blood, Canon Universe, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:39:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4388624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is surely some bizarre side affect of being a titan shifter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodlust

**Author's Note:**

> 12/31/15: Sorry for the spam but I literally just re-wrote this entire fic.

Self-control was never Eren's forte. Ignoring urges and stifling his own impulses worked far better in theory than practice no matter how hard he strived for better restraint. Growing up had been little less than a long lesson in learning to curb his own appetite.

On the battlefield, it all goes to shit. His voice is frayed like taut string, labored with exertion and adrenaline as he calls out to the other side of the clearing. _Hunger. Need._

A dozen titans wait just past the tree line, only half a mile from their base camp. How the legion managed to carry the supply wagons so far without encountering a single one makes Eren's blood boil and sparks his feverish haze early on. 

To be a prize, a commodity, was never enough. Eren is a fighter too. 

_This_ he thinks, was what he trained for. It's not the responsibility of humanity or the dreams of his father. This is what Eren chose to take for himself and not what was given to him. It means more to him than a sliver of hope amidst bloodshed.

It took the Commander three years to give the go-ahead for him to serve on the front lines. Eren has earned his place. 

His first target is a mere ten-meter class and an ugly, fat thing at that. He still drives his blade into the flesh with all the fury he’d take to his biggest enemies. He has no middle range and no in-between when it comes to fighting. Eren is all or nothing. 

Even on the same squad as both Mikasa and Captain Levi, he’s earned the third highest kill count. There is even a marked satisfaction to killing with his hands that comes nowhere near the actions of his titan. 

_The dig of the blade in his palm. The ripped flesh. The blood._

The process is more authentic, satisfying.

He takes down three more, savoring the experience each time. 

The rest of the squad slips away, Mikasa’s voice echoing somewhere for him to move quicker. 

Eren can find the base camp on his own. He signals to Levi that he’ll catch up and ignores the questioning look he receives in response. They were only a few minutes away by horseback and Eren wouldn’t be far behind. He needed a few minutes to catch his breath. 

He starts into the shaded woods that offered respite from the cool wind, anchoring himself to a solid, old oak and sinking into a hull in the trunk. He gives himself thirty seconds to calm his heartbeat, fingers twitching at his side. He counts down, down, down... 

His eyes shoot to his blood stained hands still clutching his blades and a shiver runs down his spine. He has to calm down. _Has to calm down_. 

It’s hot. 

His clothes are too tight and he needs out of his uniform, fast. 

But that can’t happen. 

This isn’t the first time. He’s experienced it enough now that he knows it’s not a fever, not a normal one anyway. Common sense tell him he can’t keep this a secret forever, but he also can’t exactly broadcast it to the entire squad. 

There is something _wrong_ with becoming unbearably horny in the midst of killing titans. 

He’s considered confiding the information to Major Hange but embarrassment stops him every time. He should because it has to be some fucked up effect of his shifting ability. The need to jump someone is _animalistic_ to the point it feels instinctual. 

He feels dirty to find something so unnatural somehow feels so damn natural. 

He groans in frustration and slides into the hull of the tree, easing his belts as he settles on the branch. Without thinking, his hand slides down to absently palm his aching erection. On other occasions, he’d suffer through it until he was back at camp. The layers of their uniform make it easy to hide. But... 

He won’t be long, just some relief. 

He fondles, squeezes, and cups himself until his breath is ragged and his underwear is uncomfortably damp. Something about doing it there, out in the open, and knowing he’ll be found out if he doesn’t hurry the fuck up makes it even more satisfying than he imagined. 

On some level Eren feels like a moron, but he rubs harder, a firm hand palming his cock still trapped beneath too much fabric. He thinks about undressing enough to get himself off properly and a frustrated sigh escapes his lips. He’s almost to the point of not caring, closing his eyes and - 

The sound of gear wire zips above him and it’s too late. 

When opens his eyes, he sees Levi’s boots perched in the branches just above his head. For an uncomfortable second, Eren’s heart nearly bursts from his chest. 

Levi is livid, staring down at Eren with contempt, “Give me one damn good reason-” he snarls before his eyes drop to Eren’s hand still covering his groin. “Fucking _gross_.” 

Eren shrivels slightly but cranes his neck to study Levi’s face. He frowns, not bothering to pull his knees together. Faced with Levi, he is unabashed and mildly annoyed. Steam from whatever Levi killed on his way to find Eren rises off the backs of his hands and blood is splattered across his mantle, where Eren can smell it - _taste it_ \- and he’s damned if it doesn’t make his mouth water. 

“I’m very sorry, sir.” 

Levi’s expression pulls tight, “What in fuck’s name made you _think_ it was an acceptable decision to run off in the middle of an expedition to get your damn rocks off? 

“I just couldn’t…” Eren’s face heats up and he bites his lip. Levi’s voice is doing weird things to his body, making his cock twitch impatiently. _Desperately_. He digs his fingers into the belts on his thighs, forcibly holding himself back from relieving the tension with Levi standing right there. “I couldn’t hold it in. I can’t help it. Sir. _Please_.” 

Levi tilts his head. He is contemplating something, expression wavering between interest and revulsion. His brow pinches and he grits his teeth. “I’m giving you no more than seven minutes to take care of yourself. After that, I don’t give a shit if you finish or not, but you’re moving your pathetic ass back to camp, even if I have to drag you there with your pants around your ankles. Is that understood?” 

Eren falters for just a second. He’s too hard up to put much thought into the absurdity of a commanding officer giving him explicit permission to jerk off in the woods, but Levi says it as though it’s an order. Another wave of arousal jolts through Eren’s body. 

Levi doesn’t even move from his perch, scanning the treeline for any looming threats. 

“R-right now? Sir? With you… there?” 

The look Levi gives him his incredulous. “Do you expect me to take you out to dinner first?” he snaps. “We don’t got all damn day for this. Either do something about that _now_ or move your ass.” 

Eren swallows and nods. The idea is ludicrous but alluring in an unnerving way. He brings his shaky hand back to rub himself, a sigh of relief instantly catching his breath. 

“Five minutes, twelve seconds.” 

Eren gives a frustrated growl, digging his fingers beneath the belts in search of more friction. He still feels awkward touching himself with Levi less than ten feet away, but his presence isn’t exactly unwelcome either. 

Eren has seen Levi naked in the showers a handful of times but the circumstance hadn’t ever been appropriate for something like this. Now, the memory of Levi’s bare skin helps Eren visualize the lines of his body without the confines of his uniform. Eren is thankful - for once - the fabric is so tight, hugging Levi’s thick thighs up through the swell of his ass. 

Eren’s gaze drifts upward - damn the mantle - searching for any touch of embarrassment on Levi’s part, but only sees his disinterested profile still watching out danger. 

Eren rubs himself harder, eyes glued to Levi. He squirms, desperate for the right angle without chafing himself too badly against the fabric of his jeans. He’s panting, and wants desperately for Levi to look at him even if he can’t understand why. His eyes drift closed and he bites into his lip. 

He imagines Levi is as aroused as he is, mirroring Eren’s own actions from where he stands and stifling his moans. He thinks of his hands on Levi instead of himself. 

“Three minutes. _What the hell is taking so damn long_?” 

Eren outright groans, moving his hips and cupping himself but it’s not enough. The Levi in his mind is stupidly agreeable, unlike this one. 

“Maybe,” he breathes, voice choked. “if you stopped remind me you’re there. _Sir._ ” 

Eren’s jolted again when the branch beneath him shakes. He opens his eyes and his jaw falls slack to find Levi standing in front of him, shooting a pointed glare at Eren’s ministrations. “That can’t possibly feel good. And do you really want to go back to camp after you’ve made a mess of your clothes?” 

Eren stops, chest heaving. Levi looks more exasperated than anything and Eren thinks impatience must come to him far easier than arousal. 

Levi steps forward and toes Eren's ankles further apart before placing his triggers back in their holsters and crouching down between Eren’s knees. Without speaking, he unclasps Eren’s belt and unbuttons his jeans, stopping just before unzipping. He’s still, frozen, like he only just realized what he was doing. 

“Is it okay if I hurry things along?” There is an edge of uncertainty in his voice and Eren trembles at the foreign sound of it. "I'd rather not cut you off."

Eren gives an enthusiastic nod and licks his lips as Levi pulls him loose from the confines of his jeans. The chilled air makes him buck against Levi’s palm anxiously. 

“You’re wet,” Levi says, as though he’s observing the weather. He fishes a handkerchief from his pocket while slowly pumping Eren with the other hand. He has a distinctly firm grip, calloused palms, and warm skin. Eren thinks of those hands as they normally grip his blades. Strong. Sure. 

“ _Captain_ ”, Eren moans, fingernails digging into the bark beneath him. Levi’s touch is everything Eren could want it to be: harsh and rough, but with a steady restraint. 

“One minute, by the way.” 

“No. Don’t stop, Captain. Please don’t stop. Fucking. _Not now_. Please.” 

“I’m not,” Levi assures, shifting his hand to cup Eren’s balls. He poises the handkerchief above Eren’s erection, pressing massaging the sensitive area while Eren squirms beneath him. “About to come?” 

Eren growls and cracks his eyes open. Levi is focused on the work of his hands, his breath coming out in short, uneven puffs of smoke against the cold air. The rapid swell of his chest doesn’t go unnoticed. 

His hand moves back up to Eren’s length and he resumes pumping, faster than before. “Tell me when you’re coming.” 

There’s something threatening and unnerving about Levi’s voice even when he’s making mundane statements. It sounds like another order and a tightness is coiling in Eren’s belly at each utterance. 

Without warning, Levi’s hand holding the fabric slides under Eren’s shirt and begins to toy with his nipple, tugging gently on the skin, before repeating the gesture on the other side. The whine Eren lets out is embarrassing, even for him. 

His hands dig into the wood, useless at his sides. He wants to dig his fingers into Levi’s shoulders, bring his mouth to Levi’s neck, and bite his neck like a dog in heat. 

Some remaining semblance of rationality keeps him from doing so. 

It doesn’t last long. “ _Levi!_ Now. I’m _coming_! Now, Levi.” 

Levi readjusts quickly, bringing the handkerchief back down to catch the sticky wetness. He lets Eren ride out the last of his orgasm before pulling away. Eren looks up at him through his lashes, body numb and muscles weak. 

“Damn, you’re noisy.” Levi’s voice sounds unusually raw. He cringes as he catches a splotch of semen on the back of his hand. “And messy.”

“I-I’m sorry.” 

Levi clicks his tongue and stands awkwardly, turning away to adjust his belts. His posture is stiff and something about his face seems strange. Eren opens his mouth, but Levi cuts him off before he can speak. 

“Get dressed and get moving. _Sina_ knows Erwin’s about to have a damn conniption with both of us missing.” He looks over his shoulder to give Eren a wry look, his passive frown back in place. “And your friends are probably plotting my death as we speak.” 

“Yeah.” Eren scrambles up, ignoring his weak knees and stumbling to his feet. He’s still unsure what just happened. 

“And try not to get yourself too worked up on the way back. We don't have time to waste on another rendezvous until we’re safe at camp.”

Eren pauses, standing in place. The implication of Levi’s word choice isn’t lost on him. He smiles, following Levi back.


End file.
